


hip-swinging cadaver, seedsucker love

by saintsurvivor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boy King undertones, Dreams and Nightmares, Episode: s12e04 American Nightmare, Gen, Magda Peterson Lives, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond, Religious Conflict, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Religious Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester in Lucifer's Cage, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Season/Series 12, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 06:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17862125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintsurvivor/pseuds/saintsurvivor
Summary: five conversations you'll never have. or, sam and magda, ft telepathy.devour and devouring, ouroborus hungry, these are the things he shouldn’t want, but lucifer has left leviathan teeth in him that yawn wide and wider still.





	hip-swinging cadaver, seedsucker love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuesdead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdead/gifts).



> **Author's Note #1:** This five part fic is for a dear friend of mine, whose done the [most excellent series on tumblr](http://mooningsammy.tumblr.com/tagged/hell-beast-sam-winchester/chrono) which I definitely implore everyone to read because it's absolutely amazing.  
>  **Author's Note #2:** This has some boy king undertones, which. I'm so here for okay.  
>  ****Author's Note #3: You can come and find me on [svstiels](http://svstiels.tumblr.com)

“…like an animal licking a wound.”

— **Jane Kenyon** , from Bright Unequivocal Eye: Poems; “ _February: Thinking of Flowers,”_

 

_ONE_

Magda is daisy bright; she echoes in the light of day like the sun. Sam wants to cry, wants not to think of the days of where he used to be able to think he could swallow the sun and not be devoured by it.

Devour and devouring, ouroborus hungry, these are the things he shouldn’t want, but Lucifer has left Leviathan teeth in him that yawn wide and wider still.

Dean still looks at him, gun in hand and it’s no longer hell lurking in the shadows of his eyes, neither is it purgatory. Heaven left a darkness in him that even hell couldn’t reach, and now, demonic helixed humanity, black eyes shuttered, human fits Dean like an ill fitting suit.

Sam still wonders how long it’ll take for Dean to shoot him, to put a thousand bullets in him and another one for good measure, because the Colt couldn’t kill the devil and sometimes, Sam likes to stab himself with Ruby’s Knife just to make sure he doesn’t light up from the inside.

Likes to trace out warding circles, devil’s traps, angelic banishing sigils, angelic blade gutripped, spitting blood because he never wants to swallow it again. Bloodies himself, digs hungry blade and teeth in  just to see if it works. Wants to figure out why he’s still here because he doesn’t want to be the devil’s chew toy, but sometimes that is all he’s worth. Angry and angrier, Sam’s never wanted to be like this.

But his anger’s been beaten from out, ripped out, throat rendered bloodied. He swallowed down Lucifer and the Cage swallowed him down in return. Fear is all there is, hypnotic, hyper focused. Flinch stricken, swallowed down hurt. Leviathan teeth hunger.

The siren’s hurt his ears, but Magda is a comforting weight against his side, and something about her is frail, despite the strength of her bones, her will. She leans into him, bloodied, stained, and he closes his eyes at the way her hands tremble. Bloodied, leather stained. She’s far older than she has any right to be. She shakes, even in the warmness of the day.

 _Teach me_ , Magda does not say.

Her mouth doesn’t move, and Sam feels, like an aching phantom limb, like a rotting cadaver slowly groaning to life, _you should have stayed dead in that body empty grave in Cold Oak_ , something deep inside all that Sam has ever known whispers. Deeper than anything Sam should have ever known, and deeper even then, coyote yellow eyes and a smug mouth, _sam, sammy, you’re my favourite._

He flinches, and Magda does not. Aching phantom limb, spine collapsing, Hannibal Lecter hungry, she devours thoughts that he gives her.

 _Teach me_ , Magda does not say. She stares up at Sam, looks right through him.

They are one in the same.

Doesn’t tear his gaze away from her, sees the clench of her jaw, the way she fists her hands into his jacket sleeve. She is weapon as much as human, bloodied, holy, god-touched devil-feasted, demon-hungered. She is he and he is she, between one moment and the next, they inhale and exhale as one.

Ouroborus hungry, leviathan teeth wide, swallow each other, and the world whole.

 _I’ll try_ , Sam does not say, and then does not say anything about the tears in her eyes, the way her blood spills over his hands as she hugs him, the way he feels scars and revenge deep beneath her bones. She smells like blood, ash and holy rosewater, acid throat burn.

She smells like Lucifer, and that is a longing Sam hasn’t known for years, now.

 

_TWO_

_You know me_ , Magda does not say.

She is Leviathan hungry. Alleycat skinny, she hungers and hungers still, for food, for knowledge, for the blood she bathed in for years. Trauma and heartbreak, she’s tasted blood and knows it on the back of her tongue. Beckoning for that early blood-morn.

She stares up at Sam, this time she does not look right through him. No, Magda has only eyes for the scars on Sam’s belly, the patches of skin took from him, hollow red and aching still. Silky, lucifer-snake hiss, Eve repentant; _you will crawl on your belly, and you will eat dust all the days of your life._

Even if Sam didn’t know it was poison. Even if Eve ate the apple and didn’t know what would happen. Serpent seduced, hiss-whispered things. Beneath everything you knew and everything you know.

 _You know me_ , she does not insist.

 _I know the devil_ , Sam says softly, takes her hands into his, human frail, trembling. Phantom limb aching. _Not you._

Her jaw, too, is fragile in his hands, and Sam has never known a pain like it when she closes her tear wet eyes and knocks their foreheads together.

 _You know me_ , she does not insist.

Blood pact, prayer aching throats. Sam does not pray where she can hear him. Says, _oh lord, i do repent, take my life, my thoughts, everything He said i would be._

The Lord does not answer, and so Sam bows his head. Thinks of devil worship, angelic helix rituals. Thinks of the one who says brother, and the one who bows to him.

 _I know the devil,_ Sam does not say, and does not say that sometimes he has trouble recognising who the devil is.

 

_THREE_

_Wake up_ , Magda does not say. She’s hovering at his bedside, wraith pale and ghost quiet. Holy rosewater and bloodied ash, her lips are red and her eyes redder. _Wake up, Samuel_.

The Cage fractures, helix sweet rituals, old age normality in looking into the eyes of someone and not saying everything you ever wanted to say. Only cage, only rattle, only death and blood on the back of your tongue. Oroboros hungry, devour and devouring.

Lucifer hungers still.

 _Where were you_? Magda does not ask. Sam doesn’t say anything. Does not think he can ever quantify into words just where he was.

Home, is the closest he’s ever come. He’s never told Dean.

He’s broken himself down enough times to know. Broken bone, body possession; angelic non-consent and the trickery of a brother he made Stone Number One. Turned over, shattered, moss covered.

 _Wake up, silly,_ Magda does not say, and in turn, she is the one to cup his jaw in her hands, knocks their foreheads together. Daughter sweet, hunger dampening. Nailed wrists and rosesweet griefwater.

He thinks if he and Jessica were to ever have had a daughter, he would have liked them to be Magda.

He does not count the number of saltwater tears on Magda’s cheeks, only holds her delicate wrists in her hands, forehead to forehead, thought to thought. Inhaling, exhaling as one.

They swallow each other, and the world whole.

 

_FOUR_

_He is scared of us_ , Magda does not say, and Sam does not say anything about how she watches his older brother. Flicker eyes, leather stained hand, scar ravaged back. His brother is Lucifer and she is Eve, fear and hunger, she wants to swallow the world and spit it back out.

 _He is scared of us,_ he does not say. Vowed never to lie to Magda, words or thoughts. Lies are a thing that do not cross his lips, not now, not since-

The one who says brother, angelic sweet, death-reversed, aching. Moss covered, shattered, turned over. Stone number one. Wall shattered.

 _Will he-?_ Magda does not ask, and Sam swallows a mouthful of rosewater blood in lieu of his coffee. The basement flickers, rope around his wrists, Magda in front of him. Blood in on her back. Lucifer looms above them both. Black eyes in the foreground, Dean and a hammer. Gadreel, misguided serpent.

Leather lays waste to them both.

 _Never_. Sam does not say. Does not say about all the things that he will do if if Dean even thinks of laying hands on her.

He himself is devil-feasted, demon-born. Dean has tasted his blood and has bathed in it before. Hammer-licked, bloodied fist, He would do anything for Magda, even lay beneath his brothers fists. Even lay beside the devil.

 _I trust you_ , she does not say. They are silent. Trust is a commodity. They trust only themselves and one another.

Eve and the apple, swallowed, ribcage made.

Coyote gold eyes, swallowed down blood, smug mouth and grinning teeth. _Sam, Sammy. You’re my favourite_.

Devil-led, coyote-feral. Azazel behind him and Lucifer beyond him, ghostly, wraith shaken. Destiny and beyond. To protect Magda, Sam would welcome Azazel with open arms, open minds. Necromantic scent, open mouthed corpse kiss. Azazel swallowed whole.

Hell welcomes him.

 

_FIVE_

_You are not the devil_ , Magda does not say.

 _I don’t know,_ Sam does not say. _I think I might be._

 _Teach_ _me_ , Magda does not say.

Sam looks to her.

Ouroborus hungry, leviathan teeth wide, swallow each other, and the world whole.

 

“Should I say someone is scratching the night with a razor blade? / Say each scratch becomes bright momentarily?”

— **Kim Hyesoon,** tr. Don Mee Choi, from “Death Swarmswarms,” [ _Autobiography of Death_ ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Famzn.to%2F2sFoa7U&t=ZjQwNTEyZmU0M2ExYzFmMGYzZGQxNTdkODE5YWZjODQwZTUxZGI0MyxSbXJrcGNwUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AJjL2n286NYyMHaCT8y7OYA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fstigmaticsam.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F182459479470%2Fshould-i-say-someone-is-scratching-the-night-with&m=1)


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